


For Family

by cap_and_cyborg



Series: What We Do For Family [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Booker Only Turns In Himself, F/F, Hopeful Ending, I think that tag is a given with The Old Guard, Implied/Referenced Torture, Joe in the Iron Maiden, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, POV Booker, Role Reversal, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cap_and_cyborg/pseuds/cap_and_cyborg
Summary: Ever since he became immortal, Booker had felt alone.  Andy and Quynh had each other, Nicky and Joe were inseparable once they were reunited.  He would do anything to be with his family again, even turn himself in for experimentation.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: What We Do For Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006230
Comments: 47
Kudos: 518





	For Family

The man arrived in the middle of the night. Sebastien startled awake when he heard the front door open, still fresh from the battlefield where any noise could mean death. He took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. He was alone in the room where before, he and the two women had been sleeping. The two other women who were also immortal.

Just like him.

He collapsed back into bed, hand over his eyes as reality hit him once more. He had died. He had felt life leave him. Then suddenly, inexplicably, he was taking a gulping heave of air in, suddenly alive again. He had seen two women in between death and life.

Less than two weeks later, they found him, drinking every bit of alcohol he could find and lying in a gutter. The women, Andy and Quynh, took him back to their dwelling to sleep it off. The answers he got when he was sober again made him wish for more to drink.

He couldn’t die.

“What of my family?” he asked immediately.

The look on Quynh’s face was enough, but Andy answered, “No. Only you.”

He had stopped asking questions after that.

Sebastien now listened to the voices in the hall.

“Thank you for coming, I know how you hate to stop searching.” Quynh’s measured tone was affectionate as it was cautious.

“I dreamed there was a new one,” an accented voice replied. Italian, Sebastien guessed.

Sebastien got out of bed and walked to the doorway. There were three people in the hall, Andy and Quynh and the newcomer. The man immediately noticed Sebastien and nodded to him.

“Nico, this is Sebastien le Livre. Sebastien, this is Nicolò di Genova. He is one of us,” Andy said.

“Hello,” Sebastien said, nodding back to the man.

It was odd. The man, Nicolò, had kind but hollow eyes. He looked like he didn’t eat enough, cheeks thin as the rest of him. And he seemed curled into himself, like the act of standing tall was beyond him. But he looked at the two women with affection in his gaze even as it seemed to hurt to do so.

Sebastien didn’t know what to make of him.

Nicolò asked Andy and Quynh something in rapid fire Italian and they responded just as quickly, making it hard for Sebastien to follow. He caught random words “dream” and something that sounded like a name, but it was so quick, he couldn’t be sure.

Turning back to Sebastien, Nicolò smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I am sorry to disturb your sleep. Please, don’t stay up on my account.”

Sebastien nodded and took his words as a dismissal. He went back to bed but it took a long while for him to be able to get back to sleep, hearing the murmur of voices in the kitchen without being able to make out the words. Finally, his eyes slipped closed and stayed there, falling into an uneasy sleep.

It was like when he died. He saw someone else. A man with curly hair and a smile that split his face and brightened his eyes. He saw Nicolò, but he looked different, happier and full of life. Full of love. Then they were in chains, then dying by noose, by fire. Finally, the man was torn away from Nicolò, who was screaming, eyes filled with tears, spilling unobserved down his face. 

_“Yusuf!”_ Nicolò screamed again and again, thrashing against the chains holding him back, blood dripping from his wrists. Sebastien heard something crack, but the man paid the pain no mind, only fought harder.

Sebastien started twitching in his sleep as he saw the man, Yusuf, being dragged to a waiting iron maiden.

_“Nicolò, Nicolò, I love you! My love! Nicolò!”_ Yusuf shouted. It wasn’t in English or French, not even Italian, but in the dream, Sebastien somehow understood him.

The iron maiden closed. The men both still screamed each other’s names. Yusuf’s cries resounded in his cage. 

Then Yusuf was on a boat, beating against the metal around him.

Then he wasn’t on the boat anymore. Water was everywhere, saturating his clothes, closing around him, invading his lungs.

He died.

And died.

And died.

Sebastien awoke with a gasp and a shudder before leaning over the cot he had been sleeping on and vomiting onto the floor. He was surprised to find his sick made up of food and not water, still so immersed in the dream.

There was a clatter from the next room over, then the other immortals rushed into the room. Andy took one look at Sebastien and the mess on the floor and left again. Quynh followed.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastien said, gasping. “Horrible dream.”

Andy came back in with a cloth and started wiping up the mess.

“You saw Yusuf, didn’t you,” Nicolò said and it was a statement, not a question. Andy glanced at Nicolò, then Sebastien, then quietly left the room.

Sebastien stared at him, then nodded. “He was with you… You both died so many times. Then…” he broke off, haunted by the screams still echoing in his head.

Nicolò nodded. “He was taken from me. I’ve been looking ever since.”

“When was that?” Sebastien asked, unable to be more specific.

“1614.”

“Over two hundred years?! He’s been _down there_ for - oh _God,_ ” Sebastien said, ready to vomit again. The only thing that stopped him was the broken look in Nicolò’s eyes. Sebastien feared losing his family, but Nicolo looked like he already had. 

“Please, is there anything you can tell me from the dream? You saw him, yes, but what was around him? Try to remember,” Nicolò encouraged gently.

Sebastien took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “The coffin was covered in rust. The chains as well. It was dark and cold and -” he broke off shuddering.

Nicolò’s head drooped. Sebastien felt horrible that he didn’t know more, that he couldn’t help more.

“Let’s get you some tea,” Nicolò said, standing.

Quynh already had the tea steeping when they arrived in the kitchen. She poured for everyone and Andy put a splash of alcohol in Sebastien’s mug. He silently saluted her before raising it to his lips and drinking.

“He saw Yusuf,” Quynh said, and again, it wasn’t a question.

Nicolò nodded, then let out a breath, putting his head in his hands.

“At the very least,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke towards the floor, “we know he is still alive.”

Andy nodded. “For now, that is enough.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The dreams became depressingly normal to Sebastien. He had the small consolation in knowing that his constantly drowning companion could also see what he saw. Andy and Quynh and Nicolò. Sunshine and wine and good things in life. Sebastien tried to push them down whatever strange connection was between him and Yusuf. But mostly, he tried to send the moments he spent with Nicolò, as he knew those would be what Yusuf would cling to the most. Nicolò quietly laughing at something Andy had said. Nicolò sleeping. Nicolò sparring with Quynh.

Nicolò hated to be away from the search, but agreed to stay a fortnight to help acclimate Sebastien to his new existence. He also seemed to hope that Sebastien’s dreams would give him a new clue as to search for his love next. No matter how minute, Sebastien tried to share every detail he remembered.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Sebastien gasped awake the day before Nicolò had planned to leave and immediately sprang out of bed. Andy and Quynh startled awake across the room, but he paid them no mind.

“Where is Nicolò?” he asked, looking around. He burst out of the bedroom and found Nicolò at the dining table, whittling. At Sebastien’s sudden entrance, he stopped and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What is it? Is it Yusuf? Does he live?” Nicolò asked, standing.

Sebastien couldn’t keep the huge, manic smile off his face as he crossed to Nicolò and clasped his hands. “Nicolò, I felt him breathe.”

Nicolò looked at him blankly.

“I felt him breathe _air,_ _”_ Sebastien said.

Nicolò blinked. Once. Twice. Then his eyes widened as the significance hit him.

“He is out?” he asked.

“I felt the moment his head broke the surface. I felt his first free breath. He is out of that cage. He is free,” Sebastien said, unable to stop his eyes from tearing up.

“ _Santa Maria, Madre di Dio,_ ” Nicolò whispered, his own eyes welling with tears.

They collapsed into each other. It didn’t matter they had known each other a short while. It didn’t matter that Sebastien had only known the pain of Yusuf’s plight for a fraction of the time Nicolò had been tortured with it. They both shook with relief and tears until more arms wrapped around them and they both turned to Andy and Quynh, who had worry etched into their faces.

“He is out, he is free,” Nicolò sobbed and Quynh gave a cry before embracing Nicolò herself. Andy inhaled sharply like she had been the one to finally breathe freely after centuries and wrapped her arms around the two of them, her hand cupping the back of Nicolò’s head. They broke apart, all smiling tearily.

Sebastien grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, filling them.

“A toast,” he said, handing them around. “To Yusuf’s freedom!”

They all raised their glasses, then drank deeply.

  
  


* * *

  
  


One would think that once Yusuf was out of the coffin, the dreams would get easier. One would be wrong.

For three nights afterward, Sebastien was subjected to the agony of Yusuf getting to shore from wherever he had been. He would swim and fight exhaustion, eventually giving in and attempting to float for a while, only to fall asleep and wake to another lungful of water. How horrible, Sebastien thought, to die over and over for centuries then finally be free, only to die again. Not truly free from the ocean’s torment.

The fourth night, Sebastien felt sand under Yusuf’s feet. He saw cliffs overlooking a beach.

Finally, on the fifth night, he saw the name of the town Yusuf had washed up to.

The best and worst part: he was already in France.

They all left together. Nicolò pushed them to travel quickly, though it wasn’t as if any of them wished to dawdle. Andy and Quynh had a tightness around their eyes as they moved across France. Sebastien tried to stay calm, but he had a hard time when everyone else was so on edge. 

Sebastien dreamed Yusuf had managed to find a kind farmwife that let him trade work for food and shelter. He saw the town name and it seemed like Yusuf was focusing on it, trying to push it down their connection. In turn, Sebastien tried to tell him they were coming, Nicolò was coming.

They arrived late at night to the town Sebastien had seen. They pushed their horses forward one more time, until they found a farmhouse that matched what Sebastien had seen in his dreams. There was a barn a ways away, across a small field.

There was a fire burning just outside it. There, a single man sat. As the horses cantered closer, he rose and his face was illuminated by the fire.

Nicolò made a noise that Sebastien had never heard from a human and greatly hoped he would never hear again. It was joy and love and agony all in a single exclamation. He pulled up his horse as he got closer, leapt from the saddle, and sprinted across the distance between him and Yusuf with his arms outstretched. Yusuf grinned and ran towards him as well, his arms also open. The impact of their bodies reconnecting after two centuries was loud enough for Sebastien to hear it as he slowed his horse. 

“Nicolò, _amore mio, habibi,_ I knew you’d find me,” Yusuf said, holding his love tight to him.

Nicolò didn’t seem to be able to speak yet. By the way his shoulders were shaking, he seemed to be quite overcome with emotion. Yusuf continued to speak to him, switching from one language to the next, most that Sebastien didn’t know, but the words were not for him anyway.

Nicolò eventually pulled away enough to look at Yusuf’s face, then rested his forehead against Yusuf’s. “I love you,” he said simply but profoundly. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it then.”

Sebastien flashed to the moment Yusuf was being dragged away, screaming his love to Nicolò, Nicolò screaming Yusuf’s name back.

“Oh, _habibi,_ ” Yusuf said. He pulled Nicolò in once more. “You may not have said the words then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them. They are engraved into my heart, my very soul. I was never without them.”

“Romantic as ever,” Andy said, smiling as if the tears on her face weren’t shining in the light of the fire.

Yusuf pulled away from Nicolò, but kept hold of his hand. “Andromache,” he said, smiling. It was a different smile than the one he gave Nicolò, but just as warm.

They embraced, Andy hiding her face in the crook on his shoulder for a moment. 

“Mmm, it is good to see you. You look good,” he said, moving away to look at her.

She smirked. “You look alright.”

He laughed and Nicolò had a small smile on his face from the sound.

“Quynh,” Yusuf said, holding out his arms. She melted into his embrace, rocking side to side as they held each other. They both laughed softly.

She leaned back to cup his cheek. “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Yusuf said, smiling hugely.

He turned to Sebastien, who had just been observing the tender moment. When their eyes met, Sebastien had a hard time holding his gaze. He knew this man’s torment, he had felt it, but he didn’t actually know him.

“You must be Sebastien,” Yusuf said, holding out a hand. “Thank you for the dreams. They gave me strength.”

Sebastien stepped forward and they clasped elbows. “It is a pleasure to meet you face to face,” he said truthfully.

Yusuf nodded and stepped back, meeting Nicolò’s chest with his back and settling into the man’s space. Nicolò settled his hands around Yusuf’s waist and put his chin on his shoulder. He turned his face and ran his nose up his love’s neck, eyes closing. Yusuf put his hands over Nicolò and relaxed.

In fact, the whole group had the least amount of tension amongst them since Sebastien had met them.

But standing with them all, Nicolò and Yusuf wrapped up in each other, Andy and Quynh holding hands and leaning against one another, he was suddenly, vividly reminded that while these people were eternal, everyone else in his life was not. 

He felt the sudden need to get to his family.

Even surrounded by his fellow immortals, he felt alone.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The loneliness remained.

If anything, it got worse.

One by one, his family died. His wife. His sons, Jean-Pierre last of all. Everyone who loved him from before was gone. He stayed by their sides through each loss, seeing Andy and the others sparingly throughout the years, hating to be away from his family during the time they had left.

Only he and his fellow immortals remained.

Nicolò and Yusuf spent a hundred years after reuniting traveling across Europe, eventually staying in Malta for a few decades. Andy, Quynh, and Sebastien did what they could to help humanity from the shadows.

After Jean-Pierre died, Sebastien changed his name. That man had died with his family.

He went by Booker now.

Nicolò and Yusuf joined them after a hundred years and it was a pleasure to get to know the two of them. Nicolò was a changed man with Yusuf by his side. While he had never been hugely emotive, he had a different air about him. Existing didn’t weigh him down anymore.

Booker only wished he could say the same.

They all went to Cuba, then to the United States. They worked together to fight for what they believed in. They became closer, a family. Andy, Quynh, Nicky, Joe, and Booker against the world.

In 2018, Andy and Quynh decided to travel alone for a while, as Nicky and Joe had so many years ago. Joe and Nicky offered to let Booker stay with them in the meantime, but he declined. He went back to France. He drank. He walked the streets where he had existed as a different man. He drank some more.

Then he picked up the phone and contacted James Copley.

He liked Copley. The job they had worked for him had gone well and the man seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

The man who picked up the phone didn’t sound like the same man he had met a few years ago, but he agreed to meet Booker.

They talked. About life and death and losing those they loved. How tired they were. How they wished they could do more.

“What if I could help?” Booker asked.

“What do you mean?” Copley replied, not understanding.

Booker sighed, then slashed across his palm, barely grunting at the pain it caused. He held out his palm and watched as Copley saw the skin reform.

“How-?” Copley said, reeling.

“I don’t know. If I did, I would be able to stop it. But you might know someone who could find out,” Booker replied. He tried not to let his desperation show. He just wanted it to end.

“The others…” Copley said, putting it together. “Your team-”

“Their existence remains between the two of us, or there will be no accord between us,” Booker said insistently.

Copley nodded. “I swear it.”

“Good.”

Booker paused and sighed. “Before I turn myself over to you, could I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“I need one more mission. Can you find me one?” Booker asked.

“With how the world is today?” Copley asked derisively. “It won’t be a problem.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Booker said, raising his glass to salute Copley, who did the same. Together, they drank.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It was so good to be with his family again. There were hugs and laughter and bets placed as Nicky gave Andy a piece of baklava. Booker let himself revel in the happiness these people brought him, knowing soon enough, he would be leaving them.

Andy was skeptical of Copley, insisting they didn’t do repeats, but finally agreed to listen to him.

He told them of the hostage situation. The girls who were taken. Gave them maps and numbers.

Andy couldn’t say no after that.

As they walked away, Booker looked back and saluted Copley, who nodded to him before looking around and waving the other direction, towards where Nicky and Joe had been watching over them. 

They used a helicopter to approach. Quynh, Joe, and Nicky all had their swords next to their guns. Andy’s ax was strapped to her back. Booker had no such antiquated weapon, just prepared explosives as they traveled. It only emphasized the age difference between them.

_They existed for so long before me,_ he thought. _They can do so again when I am gone._

The mission went along without incident. Nicky took out the perimeter guards and then they slowly made their way through the compound. They paused before a door with a pile of shoes next to it. Joe looked down at it and Booker could see the anguish and anger in his eyes. Booker looked around and saw the resolve in all his family’s stances.

He blew the door and as one, they burst through where it used to be and immediately moved to take out the guards while putting themselves between the remaining men and the girls huddled in the corner.

Then there were no more guards, just blood and bodies.

They moved the girls to the rendezvous point Copley had set up. There, they saw the ecstatic reunion of families and their children.

_Soon, that will be me and my boys,_ Booker allowed himself to think. He felt a deep ache at the thought, but pushed it back. This was not the time for thoughts such as those. This was time to spend with the family he had left.

They crashed at a safe house together, drinking and talking until the sun came up. Laughter rang out many times, affection laced in the tone of all present.

Finally, Booker cleared his throat. “I think I will go back to France for a while,” he said. “I wish to go home.”

The others nodded. 

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Nicky asked.

Booker smiled. “No, thank you. This is something I will do alone.”

“Well,” Joe said, rising with arms open, “we wish you well until we see you next, brother.”

Booker had to squeeze his eyes closed in the crook of Joe’s neck to reign in his emotions.

Quynh was next. “Stay well, Booker.”

“You as well, Quynh.”

Andy’s hands cupped his face and he worked to control his expression, lest she sense something wrong. “We will be here when you are ready, Book. Come back whenever.”

“Thank you, Andy.”

Nicky was last. They clasped elbows then pulled each other into an embrace. Of all his immortal family, Booker realized, he would miss Nicolò the most.

“ _À la prochaine,_ ” Nicky murmured and Booker could do nothing but nod.

And then he left.

  
  


* * *

  
  


He had been the object of Merrick’s “experimentation” for three weeks when he had a dream. A soldier, a woman, the red of her blood as her neck bled, her friend’s wide eyes and bloody hands as she tried to keep her alive.

He awoke with a gasp.

“No. No no no,” he muttered, thrashing against the restraints on his chest, wrists, and ankles. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just woke up like this!”

“Well, sedate him!”

And then there was darkness.

He woke to pain and his own screaming. When he eventually succumbed and died again, he saw Andy. He saw her and the new woman, Nile, fight. Saw Andy’s eyes light up when Nile landed a punch.

When he awoke, he had to admit, anyone who could actually hit Andromache the Scythian had a lot of potential.

The next time he died, he saw the others. They were eating, telling Nile about their different lives. It was a balm to see his family again, but it did nothing to release the piercing ache in his chest.

Every time he died on that accursed table, he hoped it would be the last time.

Instead, he dreamed.

He saw his family’s anger. Why were they angry? He saw Copley. What was Copley doing with the others? Finally, he saw the building he had gone to when he turned himself in and he understood long before he heard the gunshots that pulled him awake.

His family was coming for him.

Andy was the first one through the door. She incapacitated the doctor who had been torturing Booker before he could say anything. The others poured in, even Nile.

“Booker!” Nicky exclaimed, looking at him.

“No! No, you cannot be here!” Booker said frantically. “They cannot know of you!”

“Too bad, we weren’t going to just leave you here, as they did _that_ to you,” the new woman, Nile, said, gesturing to his body.

Taking a moment to look at himself, he could see why there was so much concern in their faces. He was covered in dried blood.

“You all shouldn’t have come,” he said sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Joe said, pushing forward and starting to undo the clasps of the binding. “Of course we would come for you. They were torturing you, Booker.”

“No, Joe, leave them,” Booker insisted.

Joe stopped and stepped back.

“Booker…” Andy said, considering him in concern.

He forced himself to smile. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t a mission that required a rescue.”

“What are you saying, Booker?” Quynh asked.

He saw the moment Andy understood. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No.” 

Booker shrugged as much as he could in the restraints. “Merrick might know how to end this. I had to try.”

“You _signed up for this?!_ ” Joe exclaimed, gesturing to Booker’s body.

He laughed without any mirth. “To be fair, I didn’t anticipate how ruthless Merrick would be to get results.”

“This is insanity,” Quynh said softly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his ankle. “Booker, a final death is not worth this.”

“I just…” he started and that weight he carried around with him overwhelmed him. The memories of holding his family members’ hands as they died, their angry words asking _why, why can’t you save me, we could be together forever, don’t you love me_ , the hatred he kept inside at the fact he could do _nothing_ , not even comfort them as they left him rose with a vengeance until he couldn’t draw breath.

“ _I just want to be with them again,”_ he choked out.

He stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to look at their faces.

“Could you give us a minute?” Nicky asked the group. They must have agreed because Booker heard them move away. His eyes didn’t waver from the ceiling, even as they blurred with tears.

“Booker, look at me, _s'il te plaît_ ,” Nicky murmured.

Booker couldn’t.

“Sebastien. Please.”

At his old name, Booker moved his head. Nicky was looking at him, his eyebrows slightly pulled down, which meant he was extremely concerned.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”

“Nicky…” Booker said, unable to handle an apology right now.

“No, please. Hear me. When I lost Yusuf, it felt like each breath was an effort. Existing was just something I continued to do in order to one day see him again. Yes, I had Andy and Quynh and eventually you, but I felt… heavy. Existence had a weight to it.”

Booker couldn’t help nodding.

“I know it isn’t a fair comparison,” Nicky continued. “I got Yusuf back. Your family is lost to you until you pass on. But Booker,” he said, clasping one of Booker’s hands in both of his, “know this: we will always be here for you. We will take the weight as much as we can. And we will stay here with you until you get to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much to exist.”

“That may take forever,” Booker warned him.

The corners of Nicky’s mouth curled up and his eyes crinkled. “Luckily, we have time.”

Nicky’s hand hovered over one of Booker’s restraints. He raised an eyebrow.

Booker looked across the room. Joe, Andy, Quynh, and Nile were waiting for them, concern, anguish, and love written all over their faces as they looked over at the two of them.

He closed his eyes and pictured his old family. He tried to remember the good moments, not the bitter ones. Remember their faces. Their love.

_I’m sorry,_ ma famille _,_ he thought, _it is not yet our time._

Opening his eyes, looked up at Nicky.

“Let’s go, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by another fic featuring the AU of Joe being the one in the iron maiden and Nicky trying to find him, found here: https://bestillmyslashyheart.tumblr.com/post/624025053964779521/hi-so-ive-just-watcher-the-old-guard-like-three
> 
> And the idea of Booker turning in only himself came from this point here: https://under-jailbreak.tumblr.com/post/623829857078558720/what-if
> 
> This is my first Old Guard fic, I hope you like it!
> 
> Translations:  
> Santa Maria, Madre di Dio - Holy mother of God  
> amore mio - my love  
> habibi - my darling/my love  
> merci - thank you  
> À la prochaine - See you again/Until we meet again  
> s'il te plaît - please (informal)  
> ma famille - my family
> 
> Thanks to Lightgrey for clarifying usage of formal/informal when writing please in French! I appreciate it!


End file.
